5) The Hummingbird and the Great Detective (HGD)
by The Hummingbird Tales
Summary: In Earth's parallel universe, where everything is slightly different, lives The Great Detective and his helper, John Watson. They're about to meet someone who, unlike most people, Sherlock believes to be somebody special. Her name? Clara Oswald. (Whouffaldi, slight Oslock. Probably best read AFTER The Hybrid and the Dragon. Reviews please! [Martha Jones appears for a chapter, too])
1. Chapter 1 - The Name's Oswald

Chapter 1

"Report, he's getting away!" The officer called into his radio as he sprinted down the street.

The sounds of sirens were all around and there were policemen everywhere, attempting to catch the criminal. But they weren't getting very far at all. It had taken them an hour to get this far and now they were on the chase.

Just as they were about to give up, a shadowy figure dropped down from a rooftop. It was wearing a long, green coat that trailed behind it and it was holding onto a black hat, letting its flowing hair blow in the wind.

The figure chased after the crook faster than the policemen could ever have run (evidently, it was used to running) and jumped onto the felon's back, knocking him over and pinning him to the ground.

"You, mate, are under arrest!" The enigmatic figure snapped as two officers hurried toward them.

It looked toward the men and slipped its hat onto its head to cover its eyes. Clearly, it didn't want to really be recognised.

One of the officers strolled up to thank them as the other handcuffed the criminal at last and led them back to a police car.

The person, whoever it was, turned up their coat collar and cleared their throat. They tilted their head to the ground so that only their mouth could be seen.

"How can we thank you?" The officer asked them, out of breath and still slightly astounded.

"No need," they replied. Its voice sounded feminine, "It's what I do…"

"Well, at least tell us your name?"

The figure paused for a bit before giving a sigh and, in one swift manoeuvre, removed the hat and took a bow before casting their eyes up to the officer and replying,

"The name's Clara. Clara Oswald."


	2. Chapter 2 - Lucas

Chapter 2

"Hey! Hey, wait up!" A voice called, loudly. It was a man's voice and he seemed enthusiastic about… something.

Clara wasn't in the mood for waiting up, so she carried on walking and pulled her hat across her face.

"Where are you going!?" It kept calling.

Clara sneered and pretended she didn't hear.

She heard the owner of the voice start running to catch up with her and she sped up her pace.

"I saw what you did back there!" The man grinned, "Pretty amazing! I was wondering how you managed to-"

"None of your business," Clara replied, expressionless.

"You're not very talkative, are you?"

"I am… with people I like."

"Who are they?"

"Again: none of your business."

The man was quiet for a few golden moments as he trotted along beside Clara, who was eager to get away from him.

"My name is Lucas," the irritating character said, eventually.

"Good for you."

"So..?"

"So what?"

"What's your name?"

"I said before. My name is Clara, but you, Lucas, can call me Miss Oswald."

"Ok, Miss Oswald! So what do you do for a living? Are you a free-runner or a parkour teacher or something? A stunt double for a famous actor?"

"I save people."

"So you're a nurse? Doctor? Scientist? Fire-fighter?"

"None. I can't tell you: it's confidential. Anyway, would you kindly leave me alone? I have a job to do…"

"Can I help?"

"No, I'm good."

"Are you sure?"

"I said I'm good," Clara huffed, trudging away with her hands stuck in her pockets. Lucas watched her walk away.

After a few more paces, Clara stopped walking and turned around to face the young man who was still stood there, staring at her and, frankly, rather unnerving her.

"Actually…" Clara coughed, "There is _one_ thing you could do…"

"What's that, then?"

"Could you fetch me a taxi?"


	3. Chapter 3 - Greyhound 6

Chapter 3

"Ah, here we are! Haven't seen this place in a while!" Clara smiled, gazing out of the window.

It was the first time Lucas had seen her smile.

He had insisted on joining her in the taxi because he wanted to know more about her, but Clara hadn't revealed much.

Now the taxi was pulling up outside UNIT…

"You'd better stay here, Lucas, they don't let just all and sundry into UNIT," Clara said, opening the door and stepping outside into the fresh air.

"Fine…" Lucas grumbled in reply as he watched Clara draw her hat across her face and look up to the giant building.

This was alternate universe UNIT and Clara wasn't sure if she would be let inside if they didn't know who she was, but she knew that the UNIT personnel knew of The Doctor, so she suspected she could use that to her advantage. Maybe she could flash her sonic screwdriver in their faces to convince them to let her in…

With a loud cough, she slammed shut the door of the taxi and, with a stride in her step, headed toward the doors to UNIT where she was inexorably held up for ID.

"Clara Oswald," she said, gravely, "Ally of the Unified Intelligence Taskforce, friend of The Doctor. May I?"

Clunk.

Clunk.

Clunk.

"So you wouldn't be surprised if I told you why I'm here, right?" Clara asked, clearing her throat again.

"No, but save your story for Greyhound 6, like you said," the guard replied, marching down the corridor, Clara beside him.

Clunk.

Clunk.

"Why do you have to walk so loudly?" Clara asked, regarding the loud clunking footsteps of the guard, who didn't answer her.

They eventually stopped outside a door labelled 'Greyhound 6' and Clara smiled.

"I'll leave you here, then," the guard said, "I'm assuming you know your way around?"

"Yes, of course."

And the soldier clunked away.

Clara straightened herself down and slowly pushed open the door.

"So," she smiled, "Miss Jones! How have you been?"

" _How_ long?" Clara exclaimed, unbelieving, as Martha Jones informed her of how long it had been since they last saw each other.

"Two years," Dr Jones repeated.

Clara and Martha had met a few years ago when The Doctor took Clara to see some of his former companions (even though they only got to visit Martha, Rose Tyler and Captain Jack Harkness, not being able to get to Amy, Rory or Donna for the fear of breaking time).

"I wasn't actually expecting to see you here, I just asked to see 'Greyhound 6' and here you are! I thought you were working on Earth? What happened?" Clara asked.

"The Doctor came to see me: said he needed some company and that he felt that somebody was missing. I asked what happened to you, but he didn't know who I was talking about. That was a month ago. He said he was seeing Rose Tyler, too, so I came with him over here to work at UNIT for a while. Don't know _when_ I'll get to go home. How about you?"

Clara smiled: The Doctor knew Martha would know her so he made up an excuse to come and see her and ask her about… about…

"…Me…" Clara breathed.

"Clara?" Martha hummed, concerned, "Are you OK? You've gone all pale…"

"Me? Oh, I'm fine, just… thinking…" Clara replied, straining a smile and snapping back to reality, "Anyway, yes, how have I been? Well… recently my adventures with The Doctor haven't been going so well… I died… a few times, actually. But if you want to know about all that jazz, I'm going to need a cup of tea and a box of tissues."

"Tea: milk, one sugar?"

"Perfect!"

Knock, knock, knock.

"Miss Oswald?" Came a sentry's voice from the other side of the door.

"Yes?" Clara called back, sitting up straight and drying her eyes a bit (she had just been explaining the raven). Martha was sat next to her, still confused as to the softness of her friend's back.

"Someone here says he needs you urgently. His name is Lucas Rio," the guard replied, sounding serious.

"Tell him I'll be there in 10 minutes," Clara sighed.

"But you were just about to tell me what all the fumes did!" Martha frowned, then smiled, "But it's fine, save it for next time, yeah? Being The Doctor's companion is a busy job," she said, rubbing Clara's back.

"Yeah, sorry, Martha. See you soon, yeah?" Clara replied, gingerly, "I'll give you a ring later. Gotta' run, though: ciao!" And without another word, she was gone.


	4. Chapter 4 - High-Functioning Sociopath

Chapter 4

"You know you don't have to film everything, right, Saibra?" Psi sighed, yawning, "Your battery is going to run out soon, anyway."

"I know, I know," Saibra replied, "But I need something to keep my mind off things."

"If you keep your mind of things, you aren't being much help, now, are you?" The Doctor frowned, stuffing his hands into his pockets and glaring down at the ground.

Saibra bit her lip.

Team Not Dead had re-united, not so long back, just after Clara became immortal: she had said she wanted to see them again, as she thought of them as friends, and she didn't have many of them at the moment. So the four of them had gotten together once again and The Doctor had decided to take them to Earth's parallel universe. And this is where all of this began…

"Where do you suggest we start?" Psi asked.

The Doctor turned to him,

"If I had any idea, we wouldn't be aimlessly wandering the streets of London," he huffed.

"On that note," Saibra put in, "We aren't doing anything by just wandering. We need to search, and there is no searching action involved in what we are doing at this moment in time."

"You're not helping, Saibra," Psi scowled, giving her a sharp jab to the ribs with his elbow.

The Doctor gazed up to them from the pavement with a sad air to him,

"It's all my fault," he sighed.

"Nonsense!" Saibra replied, softly, "It's not your fault the TARDIS got hit and threw us out of the open doors."

"Surprised we survived the fall from that high, actually," Psi continued.

"Well, luckily, the Thames was just below us."

"-Well, it's alright for Clara: she has wings, she can just give them a few flaps and land down gracefully on top if a building or something somewhere."

"Not quite that simple, Psi," The Doctor said, "Have you ever seen a bird try and fly when it's falling too fast? 'A few flaps' could see her spiralling _anywhere._ And if it weren't for her wings, she'd still be here with us, but now we have to look for her."

"So she could be absolutely anywhere?" Saibra frowned, unhappily as the four of them trudged down the path.

"Probably still London," The Doctor coughed, eying a feather drifting down, slowly, in front of him. He caught it neatly and studied it for a considerable amount of time.

"One of hers?" Saibra asked, perkily.

"Not sure: it smells odd… like apples."

"Well, what does she wash with?"

"Don't know. Probably not apples," The Doctor hummed as he tossed the feather back into the air. The breeze blew it back into Psi's face.

"Very apple-y…" he agreed.

l

Clara folded her arms and frowned at the police officer stood in front of her,

"I'm not a detective," she said with a huff, "I don't see why you'd want me on the case."

"You seemed very athletic when you jumped from that rooftop," the policeman replied.

"Not, really: I just fell… with style…"

"That was a jump," Lucas put in, who was standing beside them and was mostly the reason that Clara was acting quite grumpy.

Just as Clara was about to reply, a voice came from behind them.

"Hello, everyone, no need to worry, Sherlock Holmes here," it said.

"See: you don't need me, you have Sherlock!" Clara smiled, then her eyes widened as she realised what she had said, "Wait, did he just say Sherlock Holmes? As in… THE Sherlock Holmes? The Great Detective?"

"Yes, what's so exciting?" The officer replied.

Clara spun around to try and see where the voice had come from and saw, just entering the crime scene tape, was Sherlock Holmes: closely followed by a nervous-looking John Watson.

"Sorry," Clara laughed, gingerly, turning back to the policeman, "Gotta' dash!" And she darted off with a spring in her step.

l

"John Watson, is it?"

"Uh… yes?" John replied, looking into the little hazel pools of disbelief that were Clara's eyes, "Who's asking?"

"The name's Oswald. Miss Oswald," Clara smiled, holding her hand out for a handshake.

John sheepishly shook her hand,

"Nice to meet you, are you a detective?" He asked.

"No, but I'd _like_ to be."

"Would you like to lend us a hand anyway? It'd be nice to have someone to talk to who isn't a psychopath..."

"I'm not a psychopath, John," Came Sherlock's voice.

"You're a high-functioning sociopath. I know," Clara smiled, smugly. She'd always been a fan of _Sherlock._

John frowned,

"How did you-?"

"Little secret," Clara grinned, tapping her nose, "If I told you, you'd say your life was a lie," and she took a few paces forward to walk beside Sherlock.

Her eyes darted about, trying to take in every inch of the crime scene: the flashing lights of the many police-cars and the sound of people talking, wondering how the murder had even taken place right under their noses. And the murder of a police officer, at that.

Even Sherlock was mystified.

"I mean, first the incident with the cat-burglar on Oxford Street – who I caught, by the way – and now _this…_ " Clara hummed, thoughtfully, as she and Sherlock stood over the body.

"Thought that was you," Sherlock nodded, "I recognised the coat… and the hat."

"Yes, are you impressed yet?" Clara grinned.

Sherlock flashed her a glance, but didn't respond to her question, only looked back down at the dead bureaucrat.

As they both kneeled down beside him, something caught Clara's eye: it glinted in the shine of the police lights.

"What _was_ the shop that was robbed on Oxford Street?" Clara asked, her voice deep, as she squinted at the shiny object.

"Ernest Jones," John replied, suddenly stood behind them, "Rather expensive stuff, too: their best stock. One thing was the most expensive pair of earrings they had there: one-carat diamond, worth £7999. Ridiculous price, I thought."

"So…" Clara coughed, gingerly picking up the glinting item she had seen, "Like this?"


	5. Chapter 5 - Not of 'This World'

Chapter 5

Clara felt rather proud of herself: she had expected it to take longer to gain Sherlock Holmes' interest, but no – a simple find of a diamond earring had earned her a place in the detective's good books: he himself had _only just_ spotted it.

She never thought she'd meet Sherlock, after all, he was only a fictional character, but she supposed that being in the parallel universe, story-bound people were bound to crop up.

Clara frowned, Lucas had dragged her away from UNIT and, even though she had been meaning to get UNIT to track down The Doctor, she wasn't too bothered – she was helping the most intelligent detective in the universe solve a murder mystery and she couldn't care less about being back with her friends.

In fact, she was amazed every time she even thought about her situation and she couldn't help but give a smile.

Crossing her legs, casually, Clara turned to Sherlock and smirked at him,

" _Now_ are you impressed?" She asked, with a hum.

"Perhaps…" Sherlock replied, flatly.

Clara snorted out a laugh and gazed, idly, out of the window to 221B Baker Street. She had come back to Baker Street with Sherlock and John too help come up with some ideas of how to find the murderer. They knew it was the burglar from Oxford Street, from the very obvious evidence, but they had no idea how to catch him again after he had escaped the police van on the way to prison.

Clara was brought back to reality by John's voice,

"Tea?" He asked.

Looking up, Clara realised he was stood in front of her, holding a tea tray, looking as if he was going to serve her a drink whether she wanted one or not.

"No thanks, John," she smiled, "Tea always makes me tired…" and she yawned.

"Looks like you're already tired: I don't think I'd make much difference," John replied with a slight laugh, handing Sherlock a cup, even though he was about to refuse, too.

"Well then, Oswald, it's getting rather late. If you're not going to stay for tea, you'd better head on home before it gets too dark. We'll be seeing you around, I suppose," Sherlock said, shaking Clara's hand as an excuse to put down his tea and never actually drink it.

Clara laughed, almost nervously as she let go of his hand,

"Well, you see, I might need a hotel, as I don't really… have a house in this world…" and then her face fell grave as she realised what she had said.

"What do you mean 'in this world'?" John asked, seriously, laying down the tea tray.

Clara swallowed,

"You know, I really must be going, I-" she started, but Sherlock cut her off,

"You're not going anywhere before you tell us exactly what you mean and precisely where you came from."

Clara sighed and looked at him with a glint of knowing in her eyes,

"You're in for a surprise…"

l

Raindrops drizzled down the trio's solemn and slightly fed up faces.

Saibra licked the water running down the side of her face and into her mouth as she sat with Psi and The Doctor, inside a bus shelter.

"This is the most useless shelter ever," Psi observed.

"I don't think it should legally be called a shelter," Saibra replied, "It's certainly not doing a very good job of sheltering us," and she blew a wet strand of hair out of her face. She turned to The Doctor, who was looking the most depressing of them all, and cleared her throat, "Doc?"

"What?" The Doctor responded, grumpily.

"Are you missing your girlfriend?"

"She's… still not my girlfriend."

Saibra paused, looking away,

"Because I know I miss her…" she said, yawning.

"We'll have a search for her tomorrow," Psi assured her, "But right now we ought to find someplace to rest… like a hotel."

"Tomorrow? Why not now?" The Doctor asked.

"Saibra is a human: she is designed to sleep when tired and I should stay with her. After all, London's pretty dangerous," Psi answered, rain dripping from his hair, that hadn't quite gone floppy yet, due to the amount of hair gel that he used.

"Either way, you can't miss out a full 12 hours of searching for somebody."

"Can."

"Can't."

"Can't," Saibra chimed in, "Wet."

"You're right, Saibra: rain is very wet," Psi nodded.

The Doctor frowned, as if he was fed up of them and their blatant uselessness, and he stood up,

"I'm off, see you two later," and he was gone, down a street somewhere.

"We won't follow him," Psi yawned, "He'd only get us killed."

l

The Doctor stuck his hands in his coat pockets and strolled down a dark street that just so happened to be Baker Street. Knowing Clara, she'd either be in a hotel or down an alleyway, looking shady.

The Time Lord smiled and looked up to see another feather, not unlike the one he had found earlier: large and white.

He plucked it, neatly, out of the air and could immediately smell… apples.

"It's the weird apple bird again…" he said to himself, letting it go and watching it floating away… as he was watching it, he saw that it flew past a shop window that he saw reflected lights… blue and red flashing lights.

Lights from the police cars that were parked around the corner, surrounding a crime scene.

"Interesting…" The Doctor mused, sauntering down the path to take a closer look…

If he had waited a few more minutes, he would've been just in time to see a figure in a green coat and black hat slip out of the door to 221 Baker Street: a figure that had now gained a green scarf that a certain, very astounded, Mr Holmes had provided her with, telling her that she'd be too cold without one.

Clara wasn't too keen on scarves, and would have objected, but a scarf from Sherlock Holmes seemed to be a nice keepsake to have… and she _was_ rather cold…

She shivered and wandered down the street until she came to an empty bus shelter. She didn't want to catch a bus, not at this time of night, but she was in need of a map.

As she had expected, there was a map stuck up inside the bus stop, above the seats. She studied it and eventually found Rose Tyler's address. She had phoned Martha to ask for it, just in case she ever needed to visit.

It wasn't too far from where she was, so she took a photo of the map and, sticking her hands in her pockets (discovering a pair of gloves that she proceeded to put on and rub her hands together, happily – happy and slightly warmer) began to make her way to Rose's house.

This was looking to be a long night…


	6. Chapter 6 - Tea, Rose and Bus Shelters

Chapter 6

Rose, this is the second time I've been offered tea in the last 3 hours, and it's the second time I've refused," Clara yawned, laughing slightly, as she stood in Rose Tyler's living room.

"Fair enough!" Rose called from the kitchen, "I was just about to go to bed. I suppose you'll be _exhausted,_ but I'm afraid there's no guest room…"

Clara gazed up at the clock on the wall and yawned again. The time read at 11:15,

"Ah, it's fine, honest, if you could recommend some close hotels, that'd be great. Even an abandoned one would be… OK…" she replied, kicking her feet on the doormat she was stood on. She had stood there to explain herself in a few short sentences that were only interrupted by her quick pauses for breath, and now she was tired and dizzy and just wanted to sleep, "Or if you don't want me to be outside… on my own… I could always… you know… take the sofa. Or, or, or… or the floor… if you really, really like your… sofa…" her dizziness was worsening and she leaned on the dresser beside her to help keep her balance.

The Doctor's human counterpart appeared in the doorway then, looking rather confused. He soon figured out what was going on soon enough and offered Clara to option to sleep on the sofa if she so wished.

Clara didn't answer, she was too busy slowly dropping to the floor, her eyelids flickering closed. Eventually, she didn't even bother trying to stay upright and fell onto the carpet, curling herself up into a little cocoon and feeling so very asleep that she might as well have been unconscious.

Rose looked up to her husband and coughed,

"Wanna' give me a hand?"

l

Beep, beep, beep, beep!

"Urgh?"

Rose's eyes slowly opened to gaze at the alarm clock and she yawned, loudly, "I deserve a lie-in…" and she punched the snooze button.

After all, it _was_ the weekend.

"You wish!" The Doctor laughed, grabbing her hand and pulling her up out of bed, "Clara's off to see to that case she's working on with Sherlock, remember? Don't you want to say good morning before she goes?"

"So soon?"

"She has work to do; she's a busy woman."

"I suppose… Tell her I'll be with her in five minutes," Rosie sighed, sitting up.

"A'right then. Oh, by the way, I keep finding feathers everywhere; did you leave a window open? I think a bird might have gotten in."

l

"Morning, Clara, leaving so soon?" Rose asked, suddenly, making Clara jump back and take in a sharp breath as she pulled her belt a tiny bit too tight.

She coughed and loosened the belt before smiling and slipping her skinny hands into her thick leather gloves to keep warm.

"Ah, sorry, yes," she apologised, picking up her hat from the arm of the sofa and brushing a feather from her arm, "Happy anniversary, by the way!"

"How did you know?"

"Saw your calendar: today was marked with a giant star with 'ANNIVERSARY' written across it in pink sharpie: it was hard to miss," she smiled before pulling her hat down half way across her face. She turned to leave through the front door, opened it and stepped outside.

The sun shone brightly and she had the shield her eyes against it, looking out onto the street.

"Righty-ho, I'll be seeing you later, Rose!" She hummed, and heard Rose call back 'see you!' as she stepped through the door and into the day ahead, which would be busier than first expected.

l

Turned out, The Doctor discovered, that a policeman had been murdered whilst trying to hold back a criminal. The rest of the officers had a vague idea of who did it: they suspected it was the same guy who robbed Ernest Jones; he'd escaped from prison a few hours before and there seemed to be evidence of two people working together on this murder. But nobody had any clue of where the two men went.

There were bruises on the murder victim's forehead; evidently, he had had punches thrown his way quite a bit.

The Doctor would have helped out hunting for the two men, but he didn't fancy having _three_ people to look for.

As he was strolling down Park Road, he happened to gaze down at a newspaper lying on the path, the headline reading 'homeless people found asleep under busy bus shelter'.

He sniggered a bit before realising the paper was today's date and that he had abandoned Psi and Saibra… under a bus shelter.

He picked up the newspaper and read the smaller text underneath: 'The duo say they are looking for a friend going by the name of Clara Oswald and that if she happens to be reading this, would she please meet them at Paddington Green Police Station.'

The Doctor sighed and turned about to head down Rossmore Road (he knew his way around these parts quite well and knew quite a clever shortcut to Paddington Green), if he'd have had his sonic screwdriver, he could have summoned the TARDIS with it, but unfortunately he had lost his screwdriver when the TARDIS had thrown him out of its doors the day before, and now without it he was a tad stuck.

l

John Watson hurried along beside Clara and Sherlock. The three of them were heading to the murder scene that they had been inspecting the day before.

They were going to take one last look before trying to track down whom they _knew_ was their wanted man.

"You heard the news, Oswald?" John asked Clara.

Clara shook her head,

"No," she replied, in a manner that she didn't care what was on the news and it was all to depressing for her anyway.

"A man and a woman were found asleep under a bus shelter and they're looking for their friend, some girl called Clara. Isn't it sad that-"

"WHAT?" Clara exclaimed, choking on her own breath.

"Calm down, it's not _that_ shocking!" Watson laughed, then paused, thinking, "Do you know them?"

"Maybbbeee…" Clara coughed, nervously.

"Almost forgot: I never asked your first name?"

"Clara."

"Clara Oswald…" John repeated after her, "What made you run away?"

"I didn't run away, I told you what happened yesterday. But none of that matters now, I don't have time for soppy reunions: I have a serial killer to find…"


	7. Chapter 7 - Gone Without Goodbye

Chapter 7

"Well, you took your time," Saibra frowned, trudging up to meet The Doctor outside the police station, "What took you so long? Did you get distracted again?"

"Well… actually…" The Doctor started, under his breath, but was cut off by Saibra again,

"Still no Clara, I see?"

"Unfortunately, no: nothing. It's probably be easier finding that weird apple bird than finding _her_."

They were all stood outside Paddington Green Station at this point, waiting to see if Clara would turn up, Saibra aimlessly wandering around in circles and every so often listening out for any sound of Clara's distinctively brisk footsteps.

Psi spotted another big, white, fluffy feather drifting along the path beside them and he gave a sigh,

"I think you're right about that apple bird…"

"I wasn't kidding."

"Where do we head next? If Clara doesn't turn up."

"Oxford Street? Always busy there, only seven minutes walk from here."

The Doctor agreed, still not making eye contact with Saibra, who was obviously still slightly upset that Clara seemed to have given up on them.

"Hey, Saibs, cheer up!" Psi tried to say cheerfully, "It's not like we'll _never_ find her!"

"What if she's _dead?_ " Saibra whined.

"Oi!" The Doctor snapped, turning, abruptly, to her.

Psi elbowed Saibra and told her to 'never suggest that', through gritted teeth. Saibra tried not to look up at him… so she looked up to the very tall, white building to the left of her and saw, atop it, right at the edge of the roof, a figure who seemed to be wearing a long coat and a hat.

l

Sherlock, John and Clara had finally found the murderers: they were running to the car hire on Bell Street to most probably attempt to steal a car and make their getaway, or at least hide out there for a while. They had spotted the trio, barged through a big white door behind the building and darted up a stairwell.

Sherlock and Clara had shot after him, Clara bounding up the steps almost twice as fast as Sherlock (reminding Mr Holmes very much of a Hummingbird), and they eventually reached the roof, where they stood now.

"You're at a dead end now," Clara grinned, "Put your hands above your head, hand over the jewels and come down the police station with us. And don't even _think_ about trying to attack any of our officers, because I warn you, it isn't going to work." (She had always wanted to say that.)

The man holding the bag of stolen goods thrust the bag into his comrade's hand and hung down from the side of the roof, swinging his legs as he attempted to find a windowsill to hold on to.

"Oh, don't bother!" Clara called to him, untying her belt just in case she needed to get airborne any time soon. She felt she probably would have to and started to unbutton the buttons.

If she had to choose between catching these criminals or spoiling her, frankly already rubbish, reputation, she'd choose option 1 at the drop of a hat.

Which reminded her that she was wearing a hat.

She took it off and threw it off the side of the building (she had plenty like that). Little did she know, Saibra would catch that hat.

"Clara…" Saibra breathed, holding the hat to her chest, treasuring the little reminder of her friend, as she felt Psi's arm fall about her shoulders. She stared back up to the building to see Clara again: her coat blew in the wind and a loose feather detached itself from her wing and fluttered into the air. Sherlock watched it.

"This'll avoid me a life sentence in jail…" the man with the bag muttered, hauling the bag onto his back and joining his partner in crime at the side of the building.

"Not if I can help it," Clara retorted, slipping her coat off and letting it fall to the ground, also caught by Saibra. She had tied two belts about her wings to secure them in place, but now she proceeded to undo these and spread out her wings to their full size, giving them a flutter to show off her – rather impressive – wingspan, "Don't make me do this," she muttered as she saw the delinquent's eyes peek over the roof to stare at her in disbelief: she'd given him quite a kick in the teeth.

Unfortunately for both lawbreakers, in their shock their hands began to tremble and they lost their grip on the roof and began to fall…

Both the Great Detective and his new assistant dived forward to catch them, Sherlock managing to grab one man's hands and pull him up and Clara throwing herself off the side of the building to catch the other.

It wasn't that she particularly wanted to save the life of the rogue; she just really wanted to have not spent a day figuring stuff out for nothing.

She was quite a fast flyer, and strangely strong to say she'd only had her wings a few days, and she managed to just about catch the 6-foot tall man and his bag of stolen trinkets. She wasn't strong enough to fly them both back up or to even stop their fall completely, but with a few heavy flaps, she could slow down their descent.

After a while, she could lower him to the ground unharmed.

Many pairs of staring eyes looked onto her as two police officers barged through the crowd.

"Who even _are_ you?" One demanded to know, "And _what_ are you?"

"I'm Miss Oswald and I'm human, just like you are – only, I'm… different, you see?" Clara replied as the criminal was handcuffed.

Somebody in the crowd drew a gun and Clara could hear him prep it.

At this point, Psi and Saibra had hurried along and joined the throng. They were now stood watching, half glad to finally see Clara again, but mostly sad because she was about to be shot.

"Please, I'm begging you: please don't shoot!" Their friend pleaded, "I don't want to waste your time."

The gunman wasn't deterred: he scowled as he started on the trigger and ever so slightly pulled it tighter.

Seconds before he shot, Clara turned to Saibra and gave her a soft smile and a wave, a twinkle in her eye that said all she ever needed to say.

Saibra returned the sad smile, her lips quivering as she realised that Clara knew she was there all along: she could see her in such a huge crowd.

The Doctor stood back from all this and turned away before the gun fired with an almighty bang: nobody had even bothered to stop the man with the gun – nobody even cared – they were just so naïve and bewildered.

Saibra hid her face in Psi's jacket and Psi, too, closed his eyes as to not see his friend's demise.

She didn't even say goodbye.


	8. Chapter 8 - A Tad Late

Chapter 8

It had all come so suddenly… it only seemed like seconds ago when they were all together in the TARDIS, and now… well… _this._

A couple of days had passed since the incident with the burglar and the gunman, where Clara had been shot.

It was odd, the actual shooting: there was no blood anywhere… the doctors hadn't even checked for a pulse, they were sure she was dead.

'No-one could ever have survived that,' they had all said. Saibra thought they were rubbish doctors. She had cared enough to ask all about the burial and found out that they were just planning to dump her in the Thames, fully dressed (Saibra had said that that was OK, she wouldn't have wanted a fuss, but had convinced them to at least hold a funeral first).

Psi supposed that nobody really cared for Clara because she was so different and confusing… apart from one man who was convinced she was an angel and threatened to sue the undertakers for chucking her in a lake.

The sound of someone speaking in a manner that was clearly a fake act at being sad brought them both back to reality.

The voice had started by saying those words that Saibra hated hearing so much,

"We are gathered here today…"

Psi gave a heavy sigh and looked about the room: he was surprised that Lucas wasn't there, but then again, they'd probably have sent him home because of his weirdness. John was there, though, and Sherlock, too. But they were the only ones.

Saibra was impressed that John had managed to convince Sherlock to come to a funeral – he'd certainly done a better job than her when she tried to get The Doctor to come.

Little did she know, The Doctor wasn't as far away as she thought: he was stood at the back of the room, holding onto Clara's hat still and generally looking very shady in his black and red suit.

He sighed at last and wandered over to the front where he took a seat next to Saibra, but before he could say anything, Saibra snapped,

"Oh, hello, Doc - did you change your mind about coming to your friend's funeral? You know, she-"

"Excuse me, miss," the speaker piped up, sounding rather annoyed with her, "This is a _funeral._ A very hard one to take, in fact, have a little respect: something has sadly died-"

"THING?" Came a livid exclamation, "I think the word you're looking for is 'someONE'!"

Everyone looked up and spun around to see Clara standing at the doorway to the room, soaking wet, angrily tapping her foot, her hands resting on her hips. Then her face fell into a ginger smile,

"Sorry," she coughed with a laugh, "Am I late?"

l

"Every day, Clara- EVERY DAY- you surprise me more and more…" Psi smiled, in high spirits at last.

Clara's cheeks flushed as she smiled, gently, and closed her eyes tightly as The Doctor rubbed her wet hair with a towel.

She thought, intently, of the day behind her, and all she really wanted to do now was go back home and go to bed.

When she had turned up at her funeral, she was bombarded with hugs from Saibra, Psi, The Doctor and John – even Sherlock had cared enough to give her a pat on the shoulder. The chap taking the funeral was so in awe that he didn't have time to act as the whole six of them bounded out of the door and to Baker Street.

Now they sat in John and Sherlock's living room, Clara holding a mug of coffee while The Doctor dried her hair, Saibra brushed down and towelled her drenched feathers, Psi sat and took it all in, John poured tea and Sherlock sat in his best chair, seeming to look Clara up and down as if he was simply absorbed by her very existence.

"That river was freezing cold," Clara yawned eventually, "Still can't believe they dumped me there, but at least it's better than being stuck in a coffin, underground."

"How _did_ you do it?" John asked, setting the teapot down on the coffee table.

"It's simple, isn't it?" Sherlock replied, before Clara could speak, "She merely faked it: before the gun fired, only by a split second, she fell to the floor and missed the bullet. Everybody was so in shock that they didn't even pick up on her feint. It's all so straightforward… but brilliant…"

"Precisely!" Clara grinned, looking across at him with her glassy eyes, "Took inspiration from someone who also faked his own death…"

Sherlock smiled at her, knowingly.

"I know what you need!" Psi spoke up at that moment, addressing Clara, "You need… like… a code name!"

"Pardon?" Clara purred, raising her eyebrows.

"Like, he's The Doctor," Psi explained, gesturing to The Doctor, who felt slightly awkward at being pointed at, "And _he's_ The Great Detective," Psi continued, nodding to Sherlock, "Who are you?"

Clara shrugged and sipped her coffee,

"I dunno', I'll think of something," she said, as there was silence.

After a while of this awkward silence, she began to hum a tune to herself, staring down into her empty mug.

"Hummingbird," Sherlock said, eventually, breaking the hush.

"What on Earth are you talking about?" John asked.

"Hummingbird. She's small, fast, flies and likes to hum a lot."

"Don't forget charming!" Saibra interjected.

"Suits her!" Psi laughed, "Why, Sherlock, you're a genius."

"No, honestly, he is," Clara nodded, "It's his job."

Sherlock smiled at her again,

"What do you think, Hummingbird?" He asked.

Clara was silent, pretending she was considering it. In actual fact, she was terribly fond of her new stage name: she rather thought it fitted her.

"I like it!" she nodded, grinning like a cat from Cheshire.

If anyone in that room thought she was joking, they were wrong: no doubt Clara was going to use that name whether they wanted her to or not – after all, it wasn't any old nickname, it was a nickname given to her by Sherlock Holmes!

"Oooh, by the by, Doctor," she chirped, suddenly, "I found something! I think you'll be pretty happy with me," and she pointed to her coat, draped over the arm of the sofa, "In my pocket."

Saibra bounded over to the sofa and dug in the coat pocket until she found something: the sonic screwdriver.

"How did you-" The Doctor started, astounded.

"Found it. When I landed the first time after falling out the TARDIS. I've really been doing my best to keep it… not broken," Clara laughed.

"Good job, sweetheart," The Doctor smiled at her, putting his arm around her and holding his other hand out to Saibra, who handed him the sonic screwdriver, "I suppose we'd better get going then!"

"Yeah, I'm exhausted!" Clara yawned again, standing up and placing her coffee cup on the table. She picked up her coat and hat and slipped them on as the TARDIS materialised in the room with them, only just fitting in with all the stuff. She gave a smug grin as she saw that even Sherlock was taken aback at an unexplained blue police box suddenly appearing in his flat.

They all bid their goodbyes to John and Sherlock and, as The Doctor, Psi and Saibra trooped into the time machine, Clara stuffed her hand in her pocket and dug out a folded piece of paper. She handed it to Sherlock and smiled,

"My number. If ever you need me, just call," she said, before disappearing into the TARDIS, greeted by its warm, groaning welcome.


	9. Chapter 9 - Apples

Chapter 9

The TARDIS landed, gently, back on solid ground.

The Doctor and Clara had said goodbye to Psi and Saibra and dropped them off at their houses before they headed back to Clara's home. The time rotor slowed to a stop inside it's tube atop the console and Clara brushed herself down. She looked out of the doors to see the stars and she smiled.

"I'll see you soon, yeah?" She hummed.

"Very, very soon," The Doctor assured her, tapping her on the shoulder.

Clara turned around and buried her face in his chest, giving a little yawn, muffled by the cloth of his shirt,

"Goodbye, Doctor," she smiled.

"See you later, Hummingbird," The Doctor replied, rubbing her back in small circles before she stepped away and out of the TARDIS, "Oh, and, before I forget – what do you wash those wings of yours with?"

Clara smiled, looking back over her shoulder at him as she laid her hand on the door handle to her house,

"Shampoo," she replied, "Apple-scented shampoo."

The End


End file.
